


Safe Keeping

by faikitty



Category: Karneval
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty





	Safe Keeping

Whenever Akari gets injured, Hirato’s course of action is clear. The person who hurt him won’t be alive by tomorrow. Or, at the very least, they won’t  _want_  to be.

When Akari manages to hurt  _himself_ , however, it’s a bit more complicated.

Hirato knows the appropriate response isn’t to grin and make biting sarcastic remarks. Such a response would most likely just land him a bump on the head from Akari’s fist. But when the doctor doesn’t have the use of his hands, Hirato doesn’t see any harm in allowing himself a snide comment or two.

“You really shouldn’t have tried to make a romantic dinner for me,” Hirato teases, voice light and a bit relieved now that he’s certain Akari isn’t deathly injured. “And trust me: I know my presence can be distracting to you. But you really  _must_  pay better attention to your surroundings.”

Hirato’s words annoy Akari, who gazes at him with narrowed eyes. The previous minute or so had been tense. Hirato, at the sound of a yelp and a metal ringing from the kitchen, had rushed in to see who else but Akari standing with trembling hands and wide eyes in the center, water pooling on the floor as a metal bowl rolled to a stop at his feet. It hadn’t taken Hirato longer than three seconds to bridge the space between him and the doctor, who had already managed to come down from his initial shock at the pain and his mistake.

“You know full well I didn’t do this intentionally. And who exactly would make a romantic dinner for  _you_?” he mutters as Hirato carefully wraps fingers around his unburnt forearms to examine the damage.

“No? Then what on earth possessed you to dump boiling water on yourself?” Hirato clicks his tongue at the sight of the reddening flesh.

“It wasn’t  _boiling_. I wouldn’t be standing here letting you examine me like a lab animal if it had been boiling. On that note, I can take care of it myself,” Akari says shortly, snatching his hands away and letting out a soft hiss as the action causes the burnt skin to hit Hirato’s fingers. The captain gives an apologetic shrug in response to his glare. “It’s only first degree. I would be worried if it were worse, but it isn’t blistering much.” He makes his way over to the sink, where he pauses and stares at the faucet. “It’s fine…” He pauses for several long, drawn out seconds before sighing and looking back at Hirato. “Do you think you could…?” he trails off, glancing down.

Hirato lifts a brow. “I thought you said you could take care of it yourself. Which one of us is the doctor?” he asks, but he approaches and turns on the faucet nonetheless. Akari doesn’t hesitate in shoving his hands under the cool, running water, but his whole body stiffens with the effort of keeping them there despite the pain. Hirato places a hand on his back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture and kisses the side of his head lightly. “What  _were_  you doing though?”

“Heating water to clean Hearty’s cage with,” Akari replies simply. “It has to be heated to the proper temperature to kill any germs in it. This wasn’t exactly what I had expected to happen.”

“Are you saying you didn’t  _mean_  to slip and drop boiling water all over your hands?”

“I already told you, it  _wasn’t_  boiling…”

Hirato chuckles, pleased to see that their banter was providing at least a bit of distraction to the other man as his hands are held under the water. “If you say so. Still, who knew you were so clumsy?”

Akari doesn’t bother to answer that. “There are medicated pads in the storeroom. Go get them and a few strips of gauze bandages,” he orders, forced to accept the fact that he can’t do much himself right now. Hirato nods and returns during the amount of time it takes for Akari to turn off the water with his elbow. The captain works quickly to cover the doctor’s hands with the pads and bandages, ignoring Akari’s soft, half-hearted protests. The blond’s heart racing at his touch is something Hirato is used to, something he likes, but not when it’s caused by pain. He secures the bandages and ruffles Akari’s hair. “Thank you. Now I can’t move my hands,” Akari says flatly, holding up his poorly wrapped limbs.

“I’m not a doctor,” Hirato reminds him with a grin, and Akari closes his eyes with a sigh.

“How am I supposed to get any work done like this?”

We could always get Yogi to help you,” Hirato considers. “Although I suppose he’s more likely to scribble ‘help me’ over and over rather than take notes for you.”

“Once again…”

 “Surely one of your coworkers would be able to take over for at least a little while. I can’t imagine it would take too long for you to regain at least a bit of the use of your hands. I know how determined you are when it comes to work. I suspect the same would be true for your physical ailments.” He’s spent enough time kissing those lips to notice the slight upward quirk his words cause.

“I do need to find someone to fix the horrid job you did of bandaging my hands,” Akari says. “I’m reluctant to let anyone cover for me, but I suppose it would be impossible for me to perform surgery with my hands injured.”

Hirato leans forward and kisses the other man’s forehead. “Don’t worry. It will be alright. I can help you with anything else you need.”

* * *

At first it, it isn’t so bad. It could even be called enjoyable, at least to Hirato. Akari’s injuries give the captain a valid excuse to always be in close proximity to him. There’s a new level of intimacy when it comes to caring for someone who is wounded, something about helping them dress rather than just tearing off clothes (although there  _is_  some of that as well). Akari grows restless quickly, however. More times than he can count, Hirato has returned to Akari’s office or room to find the doctor missing, only to be discovered making rounds and giving orders in the ER. But on all such occasions, Hirato manages to coax him back to the bedroom with a crooked finger and half-lowered lids.

But not long into his new job of errand boy for Akari, Hirato finds himself wishing his lover’s hands would heal more quickly. Unable to work, Akari becomes more impatient and testy, even quicker than usual to snap at people who are in his way.  _It’s a new record for the number of times he’s made Yogi cry in a single week_ , Hirato thinks after the young man nearly bumps into him after fleeing Akari’s office in tears.

“What did you do to him this time?” the dark haired man inquires, stepping into the office to find himself surrounded by precariously stacked mountains of paper. “And what happened to letting your coworkers take over for now?”

Akari glances up from his desk, eyes rather listless. He motions to the ground where a few stray papers have fallen off of the piles, and Hirato sees black liquid seeping through the white. “I only asked him to bring me coffee, and somehow, he even managed to mess that up. As for the paperwork, that isn’t something I can allow my coworkers to do for me. I’m doubtful they would even if I asked them to.”

Yogi returns a few seconds later, a towel in his hand and tears in his eyes. He glances from Akari to Hirato nervously, obviously unsure if he should stay or not. “Y-you wanted me to clean it up?” he stutters.

Hirato steps over to him and takes the towel from him. “I’ll do it,” he says, and a look of relief covers Yogi’s face. The young man mutters a quick word of gratitude and ducks away.

“Why did you do that?” Akari asks. “He’ll never learn if you coddle him.”

Hirato kneels and towels off the soaked floor, tossing the dissolving papers into the waste basket. “Coddle? I’m merely protecting him from undue wrath,” he comments, and Akari huffs. “How did you expect to drink the coffee in the first place?”

Hirato stands, leaving the now sopping towel on the floor. He gazes at his partner, who raises his still bandaged hands, revealing a freed thumb and pair of fingers. “I can do that much. I’m able to hold a pen again too, although I can only write for a few minutes at a time,” Akari admits.

Hirato sits at the edge of his desk, long legs crossed in front of him. “I know it hasn’t been easy,” he murmurs, “but you shouldn’t take your frustrations out on Yogi. He’s scared of you enough as it is.”

“I shouldn’t be blamed for his idiocy,” Akari mutters, glaring at his desk, and Hirato is certain the doctor doesn’t miss how petulant he sounds.

“You’re stressed. I understand,” Hirato soothes, cupping Akari’s chin with his hand and raising it to look into his eyes.  “Just go easy on him. He means well.”

Akari sighs and pulls his head away. “I know.  I’m just going insane being unable to do _anything_.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. The motion makes the collar of his shirt fall open, pale skin and sharp collarbones showing through, and Hirato cocks his head.

“You know,” he muses, voice low, “I could always help you work off a bit of that pent up stress.”

Akari returns Hirato’s sultry gaze evenly. “You can start by shrinking some of these stacks of paper,” he says shortly, pushing a pile across the desk with an elbow.

“I had in mind to make something else  _grow_ ,” the captain returns, lifting a brow ever so slightly.

That gets him a light chuckle. “Sometimes, you aren’t nearly as eloquent as you think you are,” Akari says with a wry grin, but he doesn’t complain when Hirato tugs him forward with his tie and kisses him. The dark haired man is gentle, careful to avoid worsening his injuries even as a hand strays beneath Akari’s shirt and another works at the button on his pants. Light bites, barely rough enough to leave a mark, are trailed along the fragile skin of his neck before Hirato returns to his lips for a more fevered, breathless kiss.

“What can I say? You make me tongue-tied, my dear doctor,” Hirato murmurs, and he feels Akari’s smile against his lips.

* * *

Neither of them goes back to work that day (Akari is still useless, and Hirato would much rather stay with him).

It’s late when Hirato wakes, not quite midnight. He blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. Right. They fell asleep, didn’t they? With Akari resting peacefully against his chest, the late afternoon sun was too relaxing to resist, and he must have dozed off as well. Hirato starts to roll over, to gather Akari back up in his arms, but to his chagrin, his bedmate has disappeared. He pushes himself up in bed and reaches to grab his glasses from the nightstand. As he does so, he catches sight of someone hunched over a desk, and it takes a few seconds before he realizes he’s looking at Akari. The captain swings his legs over the side of the bed with a sigh and tiptoes over to his lover.

“You do understand that sleeping on desks is bad for your neck, yes?” Hirato whispers close to his ear, and Akari half wakes.

“Not asleep. Working,” Akari mumbles, turning to lay his other cheek on the cool surface of the desk. Now that he mentions it, Hirato  _can_  see a pile of signed papers, stacked level with his head.

“Have you been working the whole time I’ve been asleep?” Hirato puts an arm behind his back, slides another beneath his thighs, and lifts him cautiously from the chair. Akari wakes completely and instantaneously as bare skin brushes against Hirato’s shirt, and…

Wait. Bare?

Akari gives him a look of annoyance, gingerly holding his unwrapped hands away from Hirato’s body. The skin is smooth and pink, looking more like the second layer of skin than the first. The blisters are gone, but the flesh is still fairly raw and extremely sensitive, and Akari flinches at the air that blows over it when he’s set on the bed.

“Should you really have your bandages off so soon?” Hirato asks in a concerned tone, sitting down next to the doctor. “Are your hands not painful?”

“Excruciatingly so,” Akari replies, “but at this point, they’ll heal more quickly if I let them be exposed to the air.” A genuine smile crosses his face. “And even though it isn’t pleasant, I can work like this.”

Hirato wants to fret over Akari, to soothe his pain, to put the bandages back over the painful-looking skin. But he stops himself. Something in Akari’s eyes is more alight than he’s seen since he was first injured, some odd, inexplicable joy being able to return to his job.

“You’re nothing but a workaholic,” the captain says instead, lying back against his pillow. “You could have taken a vacation. They would have let you, if you were supervised. Instead, you feel the need to fight through pain just so you can sign papers. I question your priorities.”

Akari carefully adjusts his position in the bed, sidling up to the side of Hirato and laying his head in the crook of his arm, hands folded protectively across his chest. “You may be right,” he yawns, “but I don’t want to trouble you forever. And I happen to  _like_  work. It gives my life meaning.”

“I think you have a different idea of  _work_  than I do,” Hirato says. “And you’re implying that my caring for you  _is_  work.”

Akari closes his eyes. “It is. The captain of Circus’s 2nd Ship has been charged with the care of an SSS-rank doctor.”

“But it isn’t something I  _mind_ ,” Hirato protests, his fingers lazily running through Akari’s hair.

“I guess that makes you a workaholic too then.” There’s a note of pride in his sleepy voice, and Hirato knows he has lost.

“I suppose I am.”

When it comes to keeping Akari safe, he would work until he dropped. But holding his lover against his body, watching him drift off to sleep, and being able to call it work? Well, that’s nice too.


End file.
